Everything Reminds Me
by Twenty Four Hours A Year
Summary: A secretive new agent is transferred to Gibbs' team. Abby and Ziva make a friend, Tim finds a foil, and Tony's Italian charm fails him, or does it? Gibbs seems to know what's going on but won't let anyone else in on the secret. Rated T for now...M late
1. Prologue: Say Anything Else

A/N: This is my first foray into NCIS-verse…and I'm starting to like it, so please read and review, otherwise, no más, except for what I will write for myself. :D

**_Prologue— Say Anything (Else) _**

_--2005--_

"Good morning Sam," he said, setting a cup of coffee on the corner of her desk.

She looked up, startled away from the Interpol scan by his arrival, but smiled at the coffee, "and good morning to you Danny," she said, picking up the cup and putting it to her lips. She smiled. It was exactly how she liked it: cappuccino, one sugar. She knew his coffee from stopping on the way to scenes: two sugars and cream in black coffee. It was old hat, and working with each other for so long that had her knowing his drink of choice. But she also knew the brand of detergent he liked, and the flavor of ice cream, and that instead of using a bookmark, he always folded the corners of the pages to keep his place, and she knew somewhere that it was from working together that she knew those things, but somewhere in her mind, she batted around the thought that it was something else entirely.

"So Sam, anything exciting come across the wire?" he asked, taking his seat at the desk across the narrow room from her.

"Nothing yet. Boss is still waiting for a call from Mia so that we can move on the undercover op."

Another agent, Mia Greer, was undercover working on a drug sting that the agents had been working on for months. She had been paired with a drug dealer turned informant off base that was helping her to establish ties with his connections on base. They were waiting for a call on where the next drop and exchange was supposed to be, and if Mia had played her cards right, they would also find out the major players. Mia had been undercover for nearly three months, and the other agents had been working at breakneck pace on interviews and collars as Mia sent them information. Sam and Danny had been working day and night to help Mia, and both had rarely left work before midnight each night, only to arrive back at oh-seven-hundred the next day.

"DeBray, O'Neill, to the car! We're moving—Greer just called, a bit ahead of schedule."

Their boss, Special Agent Jack Kelley, was walking through their small office as he shouted directions to the two Special Agents. The winding stairs down to the garage left Sam time to finish her coffee and she mournfully threw away the cup as they walked to the car, wishing for more caffeine already.

*****************

Two weeks later, three slightly sunburned Special Agents stood at the entrance to the Uffizi in Florence as it closed for the evening.

"This vacation was more than I needed," Sam said, heaving her backpack onto the loggia stairs. The three agents had been given time off after their team's monumental drug bust had led to a major crime ring in Italy and around the base in Naples and then to the United States, where they believed the drugs were being smuggled to.

"We all needed to get away and let the second string do the paperwork for a while," Mia said, pulling her dark hair back into a neat ponytail, laughing as they all imagined the other team of agents at the base and their new probie working through months of case files, interviews, tapes and logs.

Danny smiled up at the other two agents from his seat on the stairs, squinting slightly through his sunburn, "I can't wait to see their faces when we get back. They've had our paperwork and we've been sunbathing." The trio laughed and walked down the street, looking for dinner for their last night in Florence.

Their boss, Jack, had gone back to the states to do god-knows-what, and had encouraged his agents to take some time apart. He had said that while it was great to work on a team with friends, always being together and relying on each other was a bad idea, but they had gone to Tuscany on the train anyway, listening to, but not taking the advice of their boss. The two weeks that they had spent in Florence had been sun-soaked and full of museums, gelato, wine, and sightseeing in the Tuscan countryside.

The three agents found a small trattoria and enjoyed their dinner in companiable silence, before Mia had suggested what they do before packing for their journey back to the base and Naples the next day."I saw this club earlier, and I think we should go dancing!" she said, clapping her hands together excitedly, smiling at the others encouragingly.

The youngest of the three, Sam, quirked an eyebrow, "I've had enough wine that even _that _sounds good to me."

Danny steepled his fingers under his chin and nodded, shrugging his shoulders, "sounds fine to me," and then, "who am I to argue with two slightly drunk women who both carry guns?"

Several hours and several vodka shots each later the three agents were huddled together on the dance floor of the Florentine nightclub. An attractive man with a goatee and ponytail asked for Mia's hand and swirled her out on to the dance floor, leaving Sam and Danny alone. Her dark wavy hair swept across her shoulders as she turned and grabbed his hand, pulling him out onto the floor behind her.

"_Samantha_, I don't dance," he said, his blue eyes flashing with unheard laughter in the shifting neon lights.

"I doubt that _Daniel_," she said laughing, as she took the hand she was holding and slung it low around her hips, pulling him close. 'Call on Me' boomed through the club, the base pulsing as one of her arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer still. His arms slipped easily around her waist and he smiled as she swayed to the music, waving her free arm in the air. Both of them were sweating in the summer air that ran through the club, and small rivulets ran down his neck into the collar of his black t-shirt.

He looked at her face, and caught her eyes looking far away. "Sam, you okay there?" he asked, gently smoothing her hair off of her face.

Her eyes snapped back and locked on his, green on blue. "Sorry Danny, got a little lost for a minute," she said, blinking furiously.

"Do you need to sit down? Water?" he asked, blue eyes roaming over her face, full of concern. He was sort of shocked when words just came spilling out of her mouth ten seconds later.

"You like Tin Roof Sundae ice cream, and Tide detergent, and two sugars and cream in your coffee, and you miss having a dog, and you're a terrible singer, and you bend the corners back to mark pages, and you hate yogurt and you love baseball and you can't stand it when people call you Daniel…" she whispered breathlessly, her voice seeming small and delicate in the booming club. He grabbed her hand and led her off the dance floor, up the stairs, through the bar, and out on to the street that the Duomo towered over, the warm air seeming so much cooler than the sticky air of the dance floor.

"I'm sorry Danny," she said, turning her eyes down and away from him when they stopped away from the crowd outside of the club, pacing around in gently circles away from him. "I shouldn't have thrown that all at you, I just can't stop thinking and my head is swimming and I'm a little drunk…" He put his hand under her chin and lifted it so she would look at him. She stopped ranting and he saw her eyes welling up.

His voice broke as he began: "you love the color orange, and running, you listen to music that only dogs would love and you miss the rain in Seattle. Your eyes are green and gold and you have a birthmark on your shoulder next to a scar from falling out of a tree when you were seven. Your first dog was a golden retriever and your dad's name is William and your mom's name is Beth...and…and…I want to know everything else." He panted slightly as he finished, feeling like he had just run laps around the track at the base, his heart hammering around in his chest and fluttering the pulse through his veins.

She looked at him through the light of the streetlights and quirked a half smile through the tears in her eyes.

He stepped forward, leaning his sweaty forehead against hers. His hands rested on her shoulders and her hands gently slid up his back as he leaned down and kissed her under the watchful eye of the Florentine cathedral.

**************

_--2009--_

She strode purposefully off of the elevator to the area where the woman at reception said that he would be. Only one person was sitting amongst the group of desks. He was typing steadily away on one of the computers, and seemed entirely focused on the screen. She cleared her throat as she approached and he looked up.

"Uh…hi."

She smiled evenly.

"I'm Special Agent McGee..." he said, standing up from his desk, and coming around to the center of the bullpen where she stood.

"I'm looking for Gibbs."

"Can I ask what it's about?" he looked her over, too young to be a girlfriend, he thought, and she wasn't a redhead besides. And she wasn't looking for Tony, so that was a good sign.

Three people came down the stairs, and she shifted her attention away from McGee. A tall black man in a navy suit who she knew to be the Director of NCIS, a younger man in a button up and black slacks, and a tall salt and pepper haired man in a gray suit with a cup of coffee in hand walked down the stairs, the elder two speaking quietly to one another. The younger man noticed her first, and picked up speed down the staircase. He walked up to introduce himself, but she strode by, brushing past him, and met the senior pair as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Gibbs?" she asked of the salt and pepper haired man, sticking her hand out. He nodded and shifted his coffee to his other hand, shaking hers firmly.

"Special Agent Samantha O'Neill—I believe I've just been transferred to your team."


	2. Chapter 1: Everything I Wanted to Say

Reviews = 1 Chapter. Sorry about taking so long; school got waaay too crazy, and then I was out of town and on and on…

* * *

_**Chapter 1: Everything I Wanted to Say**_

Ziva laughed as she approached the bullpen. McGee was looking smugly over at Tony who had his glum face cradled in his hands and was leaning reproachfully on his desk.

"It's just not right McGee," Tony said, falling back into his chair with a sigh. "It's just ABSOLUTELY not right. I don't know what to think about her now."

Ziva leaned her hip against the front of McGee's desk, "what is wrong with Tony, McGee? And who is this _she_ he is mourning over?"

Before McGee could answer her, that very _she_ came down the stairs with Gibbs and the Director. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun and she wore a close fitting black suit with a whit dress shirt underneath. A bright scarf was rested in the crook of her arm and a large pair of very dark sunglasses was perched in her hair. As the trio reached the base of the stairs she turned and shook the Director's hand and he nodded, handing her a large file folder that she tucked into her bag. She and Gibbs walked toward the bullpen and the rest of Gibbs' team.

"Team, Special Agent Sam O'Neill, she's been transferred. McGee, looks like you have a new partner," Gibbs said somewhat begrudgingly, sitting down at his desk and taking a deep drink from the coffee he was carrying.

"So, Probie gets a Probie boss?" Tony said, glancing over at the new agent and then Gibbs.

"I'm not a Probie," she said, finally acknowledging Tony, though with some distaste in her voice. "I've been an agent for 6 years."

Tony's eyes snapped to her, scanning her up and down. There was no way she could have been in the agency that long and still be as young in age as she seemed.

"Six years?" McGee asked. "Did you join right out of college?"

"No, I got my Masters at American. I did my undergrad there too, so I just stayed on for the extra year of grad school. Then I applied to the agency."

"American, huh? At least you know your way around D.C. We could use another _good_ driver." Ziva smacked McGee's shoulder and Gibbs chuckled from his desk.

"I grew up here. My dad's career CIA."

Both Tony and Ziva's eyebrows raised; Ziva's almost imperceptibly and she quirked a small smile: they had something in common.

She walked over and stuck her hand out to Ziva, "Sam O'Neill. We haven't been introduced."

Ziva smiled, shaking her hand, "Ziva David."

"Ziva, that's Hebrew, yes?"

"Yes, I am Israeli."

"So _you're_ the Mossad officer working with NCIS?"

Ziva nodded and started to speak when Tony cut her off, stepping up to the two of them, "Tony DiNozzo, Senior Field Agent."

"An Italian, how fitting. It's like I'm right back where I started…" she said, shaking his hand.

Tony's eyebrow quirked, "And what's that supposed to mean?" He bit down on his lower lip, turning slightly annoyed eyes to her.

"I was transferred from the European Field Office in Naples—where _I_ was the Senior Field Agent." Tony's eyes took on a slight glint of challenge at her final words.

"So you speak Italian then?"

"Si. E voi Antonio? Parla italiano?"

"Si…si. DiNozzo è un nome italiano, è solo corretto."

McGee grinned as they finished their foreign exchange, "Tony thinks speaking Italian turns women on."

Sam smiled, turning to face Tony, "Believe me…it does."

Tony smiled his most charming smile right at her before she spoke again "…just not me."

Ziva and McGee both laughed, as Tony's face visibly fell. Sam smirked and turned to McGee. "So you're my partner."

"Timothy…Tim…McGee," they shook hands. "Nice to meet you…" and a cell phone started ringing loudly. All of the agents reached for theirs, but it turned out to be Sam's. The team listened to one of the phone conversation:

"Pronto, O'Neill. Ay, ciao bella! Come stai? Bene, grazie. Come è il padrone trattare voi e le mie sostituzione? Tutti sembrano gentile. Sì, tre uomini e una donna. Il mio partner è la probie sulla loro team. Sì, essi pensiero mi è stato un probie. Non ho detto nulla ancora. Vorrei in tempo. Prometto. Sì, sì. Vorrei parlare a voi più tardi. Anch'io. Ti voglio bene. Ciao Ciao."

Tony nodded knowingly while both Ziva and McGee looked on, McGee looking curious and slightly confused as she ended the phone call and turned to him.

"So McGee, where would my desk be?" He guided her over to her desk and before she could sit down Gibbs' phone was ringing.

"Grab your gear. We've got a dead cadet in Annapolis."

******************

_--2003--_

The room was sparsely lit and the light from the tiny, dingy window did little to help. Their flashlights were barely making a dent in the darkness and it wasn't until there was a sickly squelching sound that all of the agents paused in their tracks.

"Kid can't be more than twenty," Jack Kelley said, turning his ball cap around backwards, "had to have bled out right here—looks like we have a primary."

"Probie, you've got the camera, so take pictures of everything," he said, turning to Sam. "Danny, you make sure that the probie does her job. She's your trainee."

"Yeah boss, got it," Danny said, flashing a bright smile at their boss, and then a serious, tight one at Sam "she'll get it." Sam nodded nervously, eyes bright.

She took pictures of everything, making sure to pay extra attention to the body and the evidence touching the body like she had learned in CITP and FLETC. She was so nervous that she was going to screw up and that someone was going to yell at her…

*****************

"Hey! Hey! O'Neill!" Gibbs was yelling at her. She shook her head, "won't happen again." She climbed out of the backseat of the car to join McGee, Ziva and Tony on the sidewalk next to her new boss.

"Good job newbie," McGee said as she stepped to stand next to him. When she shot him a look for mocking her, he stumbled to apologize, "No, no, I really meant good job. Gibbs has these rules, and you just did yourself a favor by not apologizing."

Gibbs started walking toward the crime scene and the team followed, "what do you mean 'rules'?" Sam asked, tagging along behind the others with McGee. "Well, technically speaking, never apologizing isn't one of the rules it's just something that you don't do. It's unofficial."

"So, there are official and unofficial rules?" She asked, gripping the camera bag just a little tighter. There was enough to remember, just being back in the states and not living on base that she had to deal with, not to mention other things... "I typed a list at some point…it might still be on my hard drive," McGee offered helpfully. "That'd be awesome, take away some of the learning curve." McGee just smiled and she punched him on the shoulder.

When they walked up to where the LEOs were standing, Sam almost turned and walked away. Several bodies really just skeletons with goo that she knew would be the remains of bodies, were lying in garbage bags amongst a whole other pile of garbage bags. The smell made her sick to her stomach for a myriad of reasons, but she knew she would have to get close when she started taking pictures.

***************

_--2003--_

Danny smiled at her as she straightened her NCIS ball cap over her hair, which now smelt like decomposing body.

"Nice work today Probie," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "Oh ew, don't touch me…" she said, brushing his hand away. "I smell disgusting."

He leaned in to her personal space and she caught a wiff of the body on him. She pressed her hand to her nose and mouth as he almost doubled over laughing. "Decomp gets into your pores no matter how far away you try to stay from the body."

"How do I get it off?" she asked peeling her jumpsuit down her body and over her t-shirt, tying the sleeves at her waist.

"Lemon juice in the shower, with really hot water," he said, straightening the sleeve of her t-shirt, fingertips brushing against her bicep, "company to scrub your back helps too," he said smirking, looking at her through his eyelashes.

"Before you try flirting with me again, you might want to get rid of the dead guy smell," she said, pushing him away with a smile as she walked to the locker room to get changed.

****************

Sam didn't even notice when the ME's van pulled up. She only noticed the arrival of two new people to the scene when one of them, an older gentleman began speaking to her.

"Decompostition is probably one of the most fascinating areas of study for a medical examiner like myself. The science is called taphonomy. The term taphonomy, from the Greek taphos, meaning burial, and nomos, meaning law, was introduced to paleontology in 1940 by Ivan Efremov, to describe the study of the transition of remains, parts, or products of organisms, from the biosphere, to the lithosphere..."

"Wow, that's very informative, Doctor…"

"Mallard. Call me Ducky dear. And you are?"

"Samantha, Sam, O'Neill, a transfer from the European field office."

"Do you miss the continent? I know that mother still pines for a vacation…" as he kept going on she caught Tony and McGee both giving each other a 'look' and suppressing their laughter.

**

It was dark outside when Sam climbed into the NCIS truck, and Sam thought she might throw up. Ziva, Tony, McGee and herself had filled the truck with the ripe odor of decomposing bodies. It was cold outside, so rolling down the windows was unbearable and the heater had to be on to keep the windows from fogging up.

"So, we get called out for one body, and it turns out to be three…this happen often here?" Sam asked into the silence of the truck.

"More than we'd like," Tony said, through gritted teeth as he stomped the gas pedal to the floor on the way back to NCIS. No one spoke the rest of the way, breathing silently in and out through their mouths as they made their way back to the Naval Yard.

When they finally did arrive and the truck slid into park the doors were all flung open in unison, with the four agents almost diving out of the truck into the cool, fresh air.

Everyone picked up a box of evidence as they made their way to Abby's lab.

**

"I really like you guys, but please go away," Abby said as they brought the boxes in and organized them on the table, "you smell disgusting."

Tony stepped forward and pushed Sam by her shoulder toward Abby: "Abby, Sam. Sam, Abby."

"Sam O'Neill, I transferred from the European field office in Naples," she said, sticking her hand out and then realizing that it was probably a bad idea and pulled it back.

Abby smiled brightly at her, "I would give you a hug, but…well, you understand."

"We'll meet again when I don't smell like a dead body, it'll be more fun."

**

The four agents stood in the bullpen, gathering nasty stares and glares from the coworkers around them, but not wanting to sit down at their desks for fear of polluting their chairs and desks with the smell permeating smell of death.

From somewhere behind them an elevator dinged; "Why are you all just standing around?" Gibbs barked, flying into the bullpen, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"We smell really bad boss," McGee said.

"Yeah, we stink Boss," Tony added.

"Ya think DiNozzo?" Gibbs looked round at the four agents, standing in the middle of the bullpen in their NCIS jumpsuits, unwilling to change back into regular clothing, stinking to high heaven and looking miserable. "Be back at 0-600."

**

Sam walked through the parking garage to her rental car and when she reached it, saw that the headlights were on. She ran a hand over her face, unlocked the car, and tested it to see if it would start.

The engine rumbled slightly, but refused to turn over. "Oh, honestly!" she said, followed by an excellent use of her Italian vocabulary, slamming her hands against the steering wheel in frustration.

She stepped out of the car with every intention of going back into the office and calling a cab to pick her up when a dark sedan whipped around the corner.

"Need a lift?" Sam turned to see Tony leaning out of the driver's window. "I'm just going to go call a cab," she said, gesturing back toward the building.

"The driver probably won't let you in the cab smelling like that."

She walked around and climbed in the passenger seat. "Where to?" She gave him her address and a flicker of recognition crossed his face, and then a small smile.

They sped through DC, barely saying even a few words to each other as the steady pulse of the stereo lulled Sam to sleep. She woke when the car stopped into a parking space and Tony turned the car off.

"Been here before?"

"You could say that."

"I assume you date, or well, not-date and just sleep with women a lot…so you must have seen the town."

"You know what assuming does."

"Mostly makes an ass out of you…Ziva and I had a nice chat about you earlier. Thanks for the ride DiNozzo, buona notte," she said with a smile.

She climbed out of the car only to have Tony do the same a few seconds later.

"You don't have to walk me in or anything."

"I wouldn't dream of it…Unless I was invited…"

They reached the door and Sam turned to tell him off when Tony leaned in front of her and opened the door with a key, "or I lived in the same building as the person I was dropping off." Sam just stared at him, her mouth dropping open slightly as Tony smiled his Cheshire-cat grin at her.


End file.
